Thursday, February 28/2019

Continuing with Rusbridger’s book. And have prime example of digital journalism changing at lightning speed yesterday. We watched Michael Cohen testifying to a Congressional committee, whilst already, earlier in the day, having read the transcript of what he was going to say. The testimony made fascinating reading, but at least as interesting was the more than instantaneous world in which one can read in Europe what has not yet been said in America, while America sleeps, yet. Though suspect Cohen was not getting much sleep. And yes, he could have had a heart attack and the speech might never have been given, but what we read was reported as future not past testimony. 

Head to what we still refer to as the elephant store, from its name in one of several past incarnations. Need brown sugar for a recipe. Also need fresh rosemary, but have more or less given up and decided to settle for inferior substitute, as fresh rosemary only available in overpriced packets containing more than we will use in the next five weeks. But on the way sidewalk actually blocked, in a manner quite typical of Cyprus, by a parked car and a rather large shrub - which turns out to be rosemary. J produces pocket Swiss Army penknife and we trim the bush slightly. All ingredients accounted for.

Wednesday, February 27/2019

Consider going to St Helena’s monthly book sale. Last Wednesday of every month. Hardbacks a euro and paperbacks 50 cents. But know we would yield to temptation and come home with books totally surplus to requirements. What we should actually be doing is donating a couple of books. 

Currently reading aloud Breaking News: The Remaking of Journalism and Why it Matters Now, by Alan Rusbridger, former editor of the Guardian. Part memoir but largely a look at journalism in a time of incredibly rapid change, technologically, but also socially, as the age of the internet changed everything about providing and accessing news. As we read yesterday we were remembering our early internet experiences.  Even with unbelievably slow dial-up - can remember going in to the school on a Saturday to access the Times and taking a book for the endless connection wait times - it was obvious that the internet was going to be a great leveller. 

Remembering the teachers’ strike in 1997 (and thanks to the internet not simply guessing at the year). We went down to Dryden for a meeting with Federation people from Toronto. They asked if we wanted to see the articles on the strike from yesterday’s papers. We did. But I then had the pleasure of asking if they wanted to see the opinion pieces from today’s papers. And they did. An interesting freeze frame. The point at which I could access Toronto papers via dial-up and print the articles but Toronto professionals were not waking up in Dryden motels to their own personal access. A point at which the Times of London was already online, in some form at least, but Alan Rusbridger was struggling to understand what the implications of the net were going to be and wondering what role the Guardian would play. 

Interesting discussions last week with people at Jane’s birthday re e-reading. Hazel said she had no interest at all in wifi but loved having a newspaper to read. Didn’t say, but thought, of course, but that limits you to one, or at most two mainstream newspapers, say a UK non-tabloid and the one Cypriot English language daily. With all the limitations of slant and content choice. The other conversation began with Rowena asserting that she only liked real books, their physical presence. And they do have some advantages besides the pleasures of texture and colour and weight and scent - weight not always an asset, but that’s another matter. Most obviously with ebooks there is the number it’s possible to carry. And the ability to adjust type size and screen brightness. But there’s also the fact that once the decision to buy a book has been made, it’s easy to be reading it fifteen minutes later. And, as J pointed out many scanned books are available that may never be reprinted. Think Rowena wavered slightly when he mentioned the (free) ebook recounting a man’s travels in Cyprus in the late nineteenth century. Actually, it’s odd, but people often seem to attach an obscure virtue to preferring real books, as opposed to seeing it as personal preference. A little like early risers. 

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Tuesday, February 26/2019

It’s official, re the rain. This is the fourth rainiest winter in Cyprus since 1901. Now that’s a great statistic, if not such a great winter. And it’s easy to be wrong about seasonal weather. There’s a kind of mental rounding off - or up - that takes place, so that memory holds iconic rather than average days. And retrospectively summer is all picnic and beach. 

The economists are, surprisingly, much worse about statistical variation than the weathermen. You don’t hear the weather presenter saying that this is the wettest (or coldest, or warmest) day this month. On record, maybe. But economists seem to be drama majors at heart, announcing breathlessly that the pound - or euro or yen or whatever - is the highest (or lowest) it’s been for - wait for it two months. And that would be the highest by perhaps half a cent. Now fourth highest since 1901, or even 2001, would be a stat worth focusing on. And regarding North American predictions of a disastrous drop of the euro, can only see them as false hopes. Wishing no one ill, but we spend over a third of our life in euro territory. Have been listening to North American foreboding for years while seeing little evidence when exchanging money.

Monday, February 25/2019

Feel obliged to see if there’s any news re the off duty policeman who was run over by the rogue car yesterday. Does seem indecent to be regarding this as a source of humour. News reports only that his injuries are not life threatening. Seems a little short of satisfactory from the comedy point of view. Not sure at what point it would be ok. Really, probably somewhere around light abrasions, which realistically is not a probable result of being run over. Should develop a more sophisticated, or at least subtler, sense of humour. 

Bill takes J shopping, searching for a light chainsaw. Has given up on the rental place, which now says the one they intend to repair needs a part to be shipped from Germany. Truthful or not, this doesn’t lead to any sanguine expectations of tree trimming this season. They find an electric one on sale, but when we get to their place we find that the European plug has, unaccountably, had the two prongs cleanly cut off. Actually, the discovery follows the finding of the two tiny metal cylinders in the box. Where do they fit? Well, nowhere any more. Bill not hugely distracted. Not hard to replace a plug, and in any case it would have needed an adapter, as Cyprus uses large three pronged UK style plugs with fuses. More seriously, though, the casing has major breaks, previously concealed by plastic wrap. So men go back to town to exchange. Turns out the chainsaw was the last of its model in the store. But, happily, they’re given a bigger and better one for the same price, so well worth the delay. And the trimming is done in about an hour.

Meanwhile, Jane and I take a walk to admire the almond tree on the hill, now in full flower witha few tiny leaves appearing. Delicate but pretty scent.

Sunday, February 24/2019

In the Only in Cyprus and Couldn’t Make It Up departments:

“A policeman was run over and injured on Sunday morning in Lakatamia [once a village but now essentially a Nicosia suburb] by a reckless driver, who was arrested along with a passenger in the same car. According to police, at 10.20 am the car was spotted by officers speeding through Lakatamia roads, mounting pavements and crashing into other vehicles. A police car chased the culprits who continued smashing into other vehicles as they tried to get away but ran over a policeman who was at that time off duty”. [Cyprus Mail]

Shouldn’t be funny - but there is a certain Keystone Cops quality to the mental pictures invoked. More questions than answers, of course. Ten twenty AM, so one would normally have assumed sober, although in this case the odds may be not. Does rather sound like the cops were the ones speeding and crashing into other vehicles, in which case it’s a wonder they managed to spot any other dangerous drivers. And why was the passenger arrested, regardless of possible intoxication? Did he (or she) grab the arm of the driver to steer the car into other vehicles. Note that this seems to have occurred after mounting the pavement (read sidewalk, UK usage). Cypriots have a preference for parking on the sidewalk, although in this case it doesn’t seem to have afforded their vehicles much protection. And finally the off duty policeman. Quite a coincidence, or was he drawn to the scene by the sound of repeated crashes? 

Yes, it’s pretty crass being amused by an account of a man being run over. Do hope the injuries weren’t serious and may tomorrow regret the levity.

Saturday, February 23/2019

Meeting re tourism in Larnaca is reported in the Cyprus Mail. Some of the city’s liabilities are identified pretty accurately, though some obvious ones missed.  The new Radisson Hotel near Lidl is, J was pointing out recently, on an extremely noisy street. Probably “climate controlled” inside but balconies obviously exposed. I’ve thought all along that the location is unimpressive, featuring hotels of seedy repute and a view of oil tanks (which are supposed to be moved elsewhere but somehow never are. It does have high rise parking, though anyone wishing to drive to the city centre would find a severe shortage of parking spots. 

Have no idea what the plumbing is like (though have in fact considered having coffee there with a view to inspecting facilities) but if it’s like any other building in Larnaca, including the new(ish) airport, the Greek custom of small diameter waste water pipes prevails. And all loos have signs indicating that toilet paper should be placed in the garbage bin and not flushed. A feature not lost on tourists. 

The meeting seems to have discussed infrastructure and what they refer to as aviation connectivity as well as pollution (a fair bit of which is fine particulate matter - namely dust blowing in from the Sahara - about which little can be done). [And totally incidentally non-Cypriot media reports this week were pleased to inform the public that cooking a Sunday roast in the kitchen produces pollution which rivals that of heavy traffic, leaving one to remember that none of us get out of life alive anyway]. 

The final insult, though, would seem to be a reference to “the degradation of the tourist product”. It takes a moment to realise that this is a reference in Cypriot civil service jargon to the government’s wish to acquire a better, i.e. richer  class of tourist. The degraded tourist product is us. 

Friday, February 22/2019

Sunny and warm. Leisurely walk to the centre. Stop at the charity shop and chat with the Thai woman who’s working today. Not busy. Not busy enough. This shop supports an animal shelter. It’s staffed entirely by volunteers, but the rent is €550 a month. That’s for the shop itself, one large room on the ground floor, and a storage room above. There’s also a small staff toilet upstairs, but that’s it. Prices aren’t high, but sales would probably cease if they were. And the price of brand new Asian clothing is low enough that second hand is pushed to compete. 

There is only one other registered charity shop, the one near St Lazarus Church that supports cancer patients. However non-charity second hand stores have begun to proliferate, some of which sell on commission, and are serious competition. Remember a second hand shop a few years back called Curiosity Killed the Cat. We were in it once when a Scandinavian woman was expressing distress over its inexplicably cruel name. Didn’t seem too much happier when she was told about the saying. 

Down at the beach there are auite a lot of tourists and kiosks have ice cream for sale. Would stop for coffee but our favourite little café has no seats. There can’t be more than about a dozen chairs there (all outside) and we’re probably not long enough after lunch.

Thursday, February 21/2019

Jane’s eightieth birthday, celebrated with a dinner at Cambanella’s, with Jane, Bill and ten of their friends. Take the bus out and very nearly miss the spot, between some hotels and restaurants not lit up and the bus windows better at showing reflections of the lighted interior than of the world outside. Ring late enough that the driver carries on to the next stop. He’s quite voluble but sounds cheery rather than apologetic as we get off. J tells me this is because he’s not talking to us - just (illegally) chatting on his phone. 

Very cheerful gathering, probably stretching the capacity of the kitchen as we order from the reasonably extensive menu. All cooking done, as on Sundays, by the good lady of the establishment, with some struggle evident in getting the dishes to the table roughly simultaneously. A happy lot. Some guessing and joking about age, with Hazel, ever a brinkswoman, saying that Keith doesn’t look 82 (which he doesn’t) and that Bob, her husband, could easily be taken for ten years older than Keith rather than his actual ten years younger. Bob unfazed as always. Jane, positively glowing. 

Harry and Ailsa kindly drive us home and have a large bag of oranges and lemons for us.

Wednesday, February 20/2019

Once more Cyprus is announcing an increase in tourists.  ”In January 2019.

The Travelers Survey conducted by the Statistical Service of Cyprus and published on Monday, showed that arrivals of tourists in January 2019 reached 81,970 compared to 75,867 in January 2018, recording an increase of 8.0% and were the highest ever recorded in January. Arrivals from the United Kingdom increased by 17.6% in January 2019 compared to January 2018 from 19,945 to 23,447.” 

A little cynicism may be in order. For one thing, the numbers always go up, never down, which is possible, of course, but seems unlikely. More to the point, it seems highly unlikely that such precise figures can be accurate. Fair enough, if we come through immigration with Canadian passports we are presumably tourists, though we might conceivably be business people. Appearances can be deceiving. But how can they possibly tell  whether a couple with British passports are on holiday, visiting relatives, or are expats who live (and possibly work) here? The EU queue moves pretty quickly, so it seems highly improbable  that people are being questioned. In fact we’re never asked why we’re here, though for the first time last month we were asked when we were leaving. We’re required to leave within 90 days. True, they sometimes do surveys in the departure lounges, but they’re pretty amateur, and so long and intrusive that even I, a sucker for surveys (it’s the ex-academic in me) have given up on them.  Suspect the “official” figures are just an unsubtle form of self-aggrandisement. 

Translation smile of the day: Sklavenites is selling “grounded” coffee. It’s always good to be grounded.

Tuesday, February 19/2019

Small outfit on a corner near the port, and on our way to Lidl, has been there for years and, as is possible only in a warmer climate than Canada, operates year round entirely in the front “yard”, spilling over slightly into the street. Seems to be a family operation and there are always a few people there, either working or stopping for a lunch break. Not quite sure exactly what the business runs to, but seems to be some combination of body work and car upholstery. Maybe also parts retrieval? Have always wanted to photograph it but usually the family is in evidence and it seems intrusive. This time no one facing the camera, but the car also hiding most of the activity. Better luck next time..

Monday, February 18/2019

J to Bill’s to help repair the roof, which has been leaking. Full day job, but successful, not only patched but tiled, so well done. No sign of any action regarding the leak in our kitchen ceiling, but then it hasn’t rained for a couple of days, so it isn’t leaking any more. 

Twitter decides for reasons best known to itself to lock me out. Significantly annoying, as it’s my number one reading referral system, carefully constructed mainly from journalists, analysts, academics, politicos of various hues,and the odd eccentric. Excellent not only for article links but often for first class legal analysis or frontline info. What “they” want is a phone number to “associate” with my account, in return for which I will be sent a code to let me back in. Had remembered the password but that wasn’t good enough. I mistrust their explanation re its being for my own protection, and am more irritated than insulted by the advice to review any rules I may have broken, being unable to remember having made threats of violence, racist comments, etc. Not keen on providing social media with totally unnecessary personal info. But beyond that there is the fact that we simply don’t have a phone number, mobile or landline, that works year round. Consider corresponding with them to argue the case but default to the course of least resistance and give them a Cyprus mobile number. They text the code and we are duly back in Twitter’s good graces.

Sunday, February 17/2019

Sunny Sunday, so we head to Potamos Creek, a bit northeast along the coast, where there’s a good fish taverna. And we’re not the only ones with the same idea. Cypriot families pour in steadily the whole time we’re there, and the customers overflow onto the deck despite a warning that some of the chairs are still wet from yesterday’s rain. Fish are the specialty, and locally live caught ones are on display as we come in the door, though the menu also includes farmed and frozen offerings. Jane orders sea bream and J and Bill sea bass. I go for swordfish and then guiltily begin to wonder if I’m meant to be boycotting it on sustainability grounds, (Turns out that there is sustainable swordfish fishing but Mediterranean swordfish have been fished almost to extinction and should be avoided. But who knows where this particular - and very nice - fish came from and staff much too busy to have asked anyway). Whole meal lovely and pretty quick service considering how full the place is. 

The creek is tidal and full of fishing boats and small improvised docks and shelters and baskets of nets. A couple of people fishing with the super long rods without reels used locally, usually to catch very small fish. In Pyla Jane’s garden thermometer records 48 degrees in the full sun, but here there’s a sea breeze and despite the sun it would be cool without a light jacket. Perfect.

Saturday, February 16/2019

Square eyed from non-stop screen time comparing Airbnbs in Sofia. Getting pretty good at reading the code, too. Great view (from a city centre flat) translates as fourth or fifth floor. If the building is “traditional”, or even just old, it will not have a lift. While still willing to walk up five floors, I prefer not learning about this feature from the fortieth review. Could also give hosts some tips on photography. Potential guests want to see what’s in the place, not how good you are at trick photography. The guest isn’t thinking it was clever to be able to get that triple mirror shot while strapped to the ceiling. She’s thinking that all those mirrors might be disguising the fact that there’s no shower. And people don’t peer at the kitchen photos to assess the hyacinths or the fruit bowl. They’re counting appliances. Hoping there’s a microwave and that there is somewhere to put it other than on top of a hotplate. They’re wondering whether the toaster mentioned in amenities is missing from the kitchen line up because it’s in a cupboard or because it’s died and not been replaced.   

Could actually summon up quite a lot of unsolicited advice about bnb hosting but probably best not. Anyway, now booked, come April, in a bnb in Sofia. Definitely central, and can’t remember how many storeys up, or have blacked it out. 

Shame about the timing, actually, as Ancestry giving a weekend’s free access, so a bit of happy, if unorganised searching. Now have a wedding date in 1599 for 9x great grandparents, married in a Church in Kent that we visited some years ago.

Friday, February 15/2019

All day rain, which eventually makes itself felt inside. J notes water dripping from the kitchen light fixture and I get Venera to come and take a look. Nero - water - is one of my very few Greek words, but in fact no words are needed - it’s obvious what the problem is. Not much point in trying to investigate while the rain continues, so we’re offered another flat but turn it down. We’re settled here and would rather stay. Not pitch black even with the kitchen light turned off, and the spaghetti sauce simmers nicely. 

Thursday, February 14/2019

Valentine’s Day, so J, sweet as well as sweet toothed, suggests we go to Lidl for a treat. The treat being what we take home, not the trip to Lidl. So some pastries and some chocolate. One advantage to Lidl being that the pastries tend toward the German rather than the insanely sweet Greek. Baklava and similar oversweet enough in their original incarnation, all phyllo pastry, nuts and honey, but don’t think anyone other than the odd grandmother makes them that way now - it’s all glucose syrup. 

Looking for a place to stay in Sofia in April. The difficulty being, in this case, that we’re spoiled for choice. Do get a pretty good grasp of our priorities/red lines, though. After the basics of price and safety the priorities are good wifi, central location, and adequate cooking facilities. Hopes for a microwave and the kind of shower that doesn’t treat the whole bathroom as a shower stall. This starting to ask for quite a lot in even a newly renovated flat in the old city. Buildings in the old city don’t run much to lifts, either. Which is all right, although slightly unkeen on seventh floor flats in that case. Remembering also that European numbering starts with ground floor. First is (at least) one up. Don’t care at all about television, though.

Wednesday, February 13/2019

Definite shirtsleeve weather today, and sunny. Wednesday is 20% off produce at Prinos greengrocers. Actually, the English sign says 20% off products, and while they mainly sell fruit and veg they do have quite a good butcher as well as carrying some high end cheeses and a selection of wine. Don’t imagine those are what is meant by products, though. Fill three of our cloth bags with oranges, pears, bananas, onions, cauliflower, tomatoes, peppers, mushrooms, carrots, red lettuce, cucumbers and garlic. Most everything local except the garlic, which everywhere in the world seems to come from China. Actually not entirely true. Can by non-Chinese at home, and there is some Cypriot here, but pretty sprouted and falling apart. Hate to think about what they do to the Chinese to keep it looking good. 

Call Genie in London to put the final three weeks of the winter - by then spring - in place. Seems much too soon. Life zipping by like flipping the pages of a book. 

Tuesday, February 12/2019

Haircut day. Mine, not J’s,as he usually cuts his own. No appointments at the regular place, so going early in the week usually works, although having absolutely nothing to read in English might guarantee a long wait. We’ve been going to the same place for years, me more regularly than J, without ever getting a bad cut, so that’s all you can ask given translation limitations. 

Natalia, our Ukrainian Cypriot jeweller friend is standing outside her shop having a smoke. First time we’ve seen the shop open this year. Yes, she’s been away. Visiting her family in Ukraine. No, things aren’t any better there, and of course her parents not getting any younger. To add to all the other difficulties the authorities, as elsewhere, expect people to go online for information and assistance. And elderly people often have no computers, very unsmart phones, and no skills. Also, there’s going to be an election next month. Clearly Natalia has no expectation that that is likely to improve matters. 

Stop for a Greek coffee at our usual café along the road. Then a winding way back partly via the waterfront, checking out the shops and cafés new and old, as change is continual. One of the many real estate places has a sign that takes a moment or two to register. “Get EU passport easily! Investment from €2.5 million. Get your money back in 3 years.” The reference is to what amounts to the Cypriot practice of selling citizenship, and therefore passports, to those able to buy expensive properties. A practice deplored but not ruled out by the European Union. And, cynically, the final promise suggests that in three years time said property may be sold but the passport will remain. 

In the evening to Cambanella’s for a rare dinner. Jane is sussing out its suitability as a location for her eightieth birthday next week. It passes the test. She’d like a large round table, but failing that she and the owner compromise on a plan to push two rectangular tables together in order to seat ten.

Monday, February 11/2019

Spend disproportionate amount of time booking flight (was about to say home, but) to London from Sofia in early April. Mess about with alternatives. Flight no more than three and a half hours, so (paying for) seats together not critical, but some airlines more vicious than others at seeing to it that couples who won’t pay for seat selection end up with middle seats not near each other. Last example Air Canada between Toronto and Winnipeg. Actual preference often aisle seats opposite each other. 

As well as price, luggage and general amenities, there is the question of which airport the flight lands at, the convenience of getting to central London. Luton and Stansted both more awkward and more expensive by train than Gatwick. Plus question of departure and arrival times. Eventually decide to check British Airways as an alternative, expecting it to be more expensive, which it isn’t. Also, very happily, it lands at Heathrow, so immediately on the tube. Not like the golden days of drinks and meals, but what is? 

So everything arranged. Except, that is, that it takes four tries, three times with my MasterCard and once with J’s, to get the payment accepted. Fourth try, with mine this time, lucky. Have by this time wondered if using a VPN with a non-Canadian location might be the problem. Switch to Montreal and success. Would love to think this was inspiration, however belated, and will be useful for future online transactions. Consider it more likely that this is only random reinforcement, and, like Skinner’s chicken hopping on one foot in the hopes of receiving more food pellets, I will have faith in using a Canadian VPN location until the method, inevitably, fails. 

This flight headed to UK post Brexit D-Day. We’re moving, slowly, into unknown territory. Noted in news last Friday that now « freighters setting sail from UK ports with cargo for far-flung destinations such as Australia and New Zealand, a journey of about 50 days, risk arriving after Brexit day with – in the event of a no-deal Brexit – no idea of the trade rules that will be in place ». Would assume some competent arrangement will have been made, if only UK politicians didn’t keep doing their best to disabuse one of any delusions of their competence. Thus Transport Minister Chris Grayling decidedin preparation for a Brexit no-deal, to award a £13.8 million ferry contract to Seaborne Freight, a company which had never run a ferry service and owned no ships. He defended the decision for some weeks at a cost of £800,000 to the public in consultant fees, in order to have it finally collapse last week. So hope rather than trust that planes between EU and UK will not face serious disruption.

Sunday, February 10/2019

Finish Seymour Hersh’s Reporter four hours before it disappears from the iPad. Tighter than that sounds, as the last three of those hours we are out for Sunday lunch. Hersh is not an elegant writer, and there are times I’d like to tweak a phrase, but the material is fascinating, detailed, and frequently horrific. He made a specialty of careful research and revelation involving some of the dirtiest political secrets of the last sixty years, and that is the essence of the book. Few of the public figures come out looking good, although there are some admirable exceptions, mostly not from positions of real power. And the material is there for yet another book, a biography of Dick Cheney, if it can be made watertight and not betray vulnerable sources.

For example, almost all recent presidents seem to have approved political assassinations to deal with « enemy «  foreign leaders, sometimes to an extent deplored by the CIA, not usually noted for reluctance to engage in violence and deceit. Nothing actionable from the presidential side, simply a little commentary along the old « will no one rid me of this troublesome priest « lines, and no direct orders needed. Elections and individuals frequently bought, foreign countries destabilised, official statements blatant lies. Not nearly as much as one might wish to choose between parties, either. Depressing really, as it’s so obvious that Trump is only less subtle, not more ethical than many of his predecessors - while the last days of Nixon were at least as bizarre. And JFK more sexually reckless and no more moral. If anything has changed, it is the perceived need to conceal such behaviour and the willingness of Congress to condone it. Leaving one with the bizarre feeling that there is something to be said for hypocrisy. It at least acknowledges that there is such a thing as behaviour too shameful to admit to.

Saturday, February 9/2019

Photo from Cyprus Mail

A victim partly of recent torrential showers and partly of neglect, as it languished in the buffer zone between North and South, 16th century Ayios Iakovos church collapsed. Sad loss, though it had been abandoned for reasons of politics and geography.

Friday, February 8/2019

Wake up around five to thunder and lightning (unhelpful predictive text wanted me to say lightening, but it was definitely pre-dawn). Real morning not thundery but definitely dark and rainy. Badly engineered drains in the street outside not keeping up, as usual, cars driving through with huge wakes behind. Supposed to go to Jane and Bill’s for lunch and not keen on umbrellas at the bus stop. White caps on the sea, and palm trees indicating enough wind that umbrellas probably useless. Jane calls to say that Bill will pick us up. Take both umbrellas and sunglasses. Bill’s arrival with the car and the umbrellas do it - sun comes out temporarily. B a super pastry maker and steak and kidney pie a treat. Between showers, Joe and Bill take the drills out and finish the repairs they started on the car port before the drill battery died. 

As a plane flies overhead Bill tells us that the Tornado fighter jets at the British base at Akrotiri have all left. Apparently their last mission was a strike on ISIS in Syria last Thursday. Typhoons remain and there is speculation the base will acquire F35 jets as well.

For a week with this much rain there has been remarkably little time for reading, leaving 147 pages to go in a book that we have in theory for one more day. But how many hours? Should be two weeks from borrowing, which both of us remember as a week ago Sunday. Doesn’t match up, so I take screenshots of the remaining pages. It’s a good book - and there are 20 people on the waiting list.

Thursday, February 7/2019

Unable to procrastinate much longer on booking airline tickets. We get what is somewhat ambiguously referred to as less than 90 days in Cyprus. And we’re lucky that it’s not, like most EU countries, part of the Schengen Union. Outsiders get three months out of six in the Schengen Union and must wait another three months before re-entering. Will presumably start applying to post-Brexit Brits, though suspect many don’t know it yet, but that’s another and more complicated story. 

Meanwhile we have to be on our way by very early April. Usually we’re here in late November or early December and some time in February take a visa ru - Athens, Rome, Crete, or wherever - and come back here until some time in April. This time we arrived in early January so there’ll be no coming back. But where? Someplace we already know or someplace new? 

As I start googling, it strikes me what bizarre criteria we have. Where can we get a direct flight from Larnaca to? Are these places of any intrinsic charm? What is the price of the flight - and of central accommodation? And what time of day does the flight arrive. Thus I find myself dismissing destinations because an otherwise satisfactory flight arrives very late at night. Hotels are one thing, but looking for a previously unseen flat in the early hours of the morning is not a happy thought. We must be getting old. When we went to Spain the plan was to spend the rest of the night in the airport after a ridiculously late arrival and take the electric train out in the morning. Actually hadn’t booked a place to stay then either. 

Gradually the place meeting most of our criteria merges. Sofia. There’s a discount airline going there too, one that’s been around for a while. Terrible website, though. Crashes and reloads more than once, displays badly, rejects apparently available seat choices, many etceteras. And as a final indignity bank rejects my credit card twice and J’s once, each new try involving significant re-entering of info. Probably know credit card number by heart. My card magically approved on third try lucky. So Sofia it is. Can wait until tomorrow to decide route back to UK. Which will be after March 29, so depending on Brexit terms, or lack of same, may be an entirely different dilemma. Glass of whiskey well earned.

Wednesday, February 6/2019

Thunder and lightning today before sunrise (currently about twenty to seven). Not a lot of rain but sky pretty grey and whitecaps visible on the sea. Not good, as J and Bill have plans to meet in the centre to go to the butcher’s and pick up some beef fillet for a noon meal. The butcher (for some reason the signs here usually say butchery, which to my ears has connotations of massacre rather than simple meat cutting. The meat in question is a piece J and butcher have discussed previously and has now been hanging for about six weeks. A place recommended by Magne years ago as providing not only good meat but intelligent discussion about cuts. 

They nearly make it home before a sudden, violent downpour. So dry clothes, glasses of spiced rum, and beautiful fillet steaks. Fresh local strawberries too - though presumably greenhouse. Jane joins us for the lunch after her painting group.

Tuesday, February 5/2019

Newly reported stats say that Cyprus has shown up well regarding the number of years a person is expected to be able to continue to live a healthy life. An interesting measurement in itself, as there is something to be said for measuring healthy, non-disabled living as opposed to mere failure to die. Women are ranked  fourth in Europe, with an average of 68.8 healthy years and men sixth, with 67.5 years. As I read, I’m analysing mentally (though with no idea what Canada’s figures are) and thinking of reasons life in Cyprus is healthy. Have seen far too many restaurants featuring kabobs and chips to think of the Mediterranean diet as something the locals actually eat primarily, but they’re not big on processed food and fresh fruit and vegetables are available year round. Many recipes feature pulses. Wine much more likely to be a normal part of family meals than a means of intoxication. It would be easy to be vegetarian here - although few people are. Outdoor living rarely limited by weather. 

Then I continue reading to find that “the EU country with the highest number of healthy years in 2016 for both women and men was Sweden (73.3 years for women, 73.0 years for men)”. So much for year round outdoor sunshine and endless fresh fruit and veg. Reminded of the old (1973?) Canadian participaction messages comparing 30 year old Canadians to 60 year old Swedes.

Monday, February 4/2019

Over to the bakery for a large loaf of the sesame covered dense rye bread. Our first stop in case they run out, which does have the disadvantage of having to carry the bread for the rest of the walk. Then a stop at our favourite charity shop. They do, surprisingly, have one of Louise Penny’s books, but it’s one I’ve read. Just as well, really, as we’re not short of reading material. Less than half way through Seymour Hersh’s memoirs, though more than half way through the loan time, so if we don’t speed up it will disappear from the iPad before we’re finished. More ebooks waiting, but they’re ones we own, so no hurry. 

The only other people in the charity shop are the woman in charge, whom I’ve chatted with in the past, and a very distressed female customer. The customer is recounting her difficulties with Cypriot banks, which appear to have been giving money from her (not joint) account to her “soon to be ex”. Both women are totally engrossed in what seems to be a fairly horrific account, and are discussing remedies including suing the banks. It’s a complex story, I tell J after we leave. Were you listening? Well, hearing. But there were confusing bits and I could hardly ask for clarification. 

Sit for a bit on a bench down at the waterfront after finding a suitable bench - half in shade for me and half in sun for J. Tables all full at our usual coffee shop, so another bench stop up near St Lazarus Church. A lovely and very old part of the city. The name Larnaca means coffin, and had always assumed that this was in reference to the fact that the Biblical Lazarus was thought to have been buried in the (now empty) crypt of the church named after him. However, a municipal website would have it otherwise: “Larnaca was known as Kition as it is believed that Noah's grandson, Khittim, established the first settlement about 6000 years ago. The modern name of the city; which means coffins in Greek ('Larnax') was derived because of the many burial sites found on Kition settlements.” Believed by whom for heaven’s sake? There were very early Christian settlements in Cyprus, a little over 2000 years ago and well within sailing distance from the Middle East. But Noah?!  The Larnaca site goes on to explain: “While other settlements in Cyprus were abandoned later, Larnaca developed into a city because of its ancestors who inhabited it continuously”. So all is made clear. 

Sunday, February 3/2019

Straight sunny Mediterranean weather. Warm, breeze off the water.   Coffee and blues and the morning papers until bus time. Bus to Cambanella’s unpredictable as usual, so we’re more than half an hour early and go for a walk. Reasonably affluent suburb, with some fields, presumably awaiting development as a subdivision. Pass a basketball hoop implanted in the sidewalk. A new addition to the collection of sidewalk obstacles, though quite near a standard sidewalk blocking tree.

Saturday, February 2/2019

Today’s Cyprus Mail reports that “A Turkish Cypriot was arrested on Friday night at the Ayios Dhometios checkpoint after he was found attempting to smuggle to the south a total of 14.3kg of rolling tobacco, 6,000 cigarette packs, and a quantity of veterinary drugs”. We had been joking about border checks when returning from the North on Thursday. We had confessed to fruit and veg from the market, which didn’t interest the border official at all. Did we have alcohol or tobacco? No. Have no idea how many cigarettes are legal but apparently one litre of booze is the limit, though most liquor is actually cheaper in the South, so temptation must be limited. 

About a year ago there were charges over someone crossing with a sack full of live snails, apparently for the restaurant trade. Again, wouldn’t have been tempted, but would have had no idea that snails were verboten. They are on sale live at the market in Famagusta (as they are in markets in the South) so we could in all innocence have picked them up along with the tomatoes and oranges. Is it quantity that made the sackful illegal or simply the fact that they were live? Also a year or two back someone was arrested for smuggling a man across in the trunk of his car. Much harder to explain away or claim to have forgotten about. But also odd. The border is marked and lightly patrolled,  but as Bill says there must be plenty of rural places where one would stand good odds of crossing unnoticed, especially at night.

Friday, February 1/2019

Sometimes embarrassed by the rather pathetic nature of the blog, which in low season seems easily to deteriorate into non events; as in went for a walk, bought some food, came home, cooked it. And what may well appear to be an obsessive concern with prices. Some of which is necessary as personal concern, in that the per diem cost of a two week holiday may not matter enormously to someone who is at home for the other fifty weeks, whereas the per diem cost of a six month sojourn has more budgetary impact. So no five star hotels. 

But this blog also serves as my personal journal, and it’s sometimes interesting for J and me to look back at our daily life in a particular country five or ten or more years ago. Food quality and cost varies significantly around the globe. Fresh produce as well as meat significantly more expensive, less varied, and simply harder to find in Malta than in Cyprus, for example. The climate is similar, but Malta is a much smaller island and heavily built over - simply much less space to devote to gardens or raising animals. There’s a reason that rabbit is the national dish. Although EU membership did improve things. 

So back to the memories. People in most countries seem to believe that prices are rising but objectivity not always easy. And often easy to mistake one particularly annoying increase for the whole picture, or to forget prices for similar items elsewhere. So when I see on FB memories a photo from February 1, 2014 showing an enormous and luxuriant head of celery (more accurately a stalk, but that gets easily confused with a rib, which it really isn’t) and recording the price as €0.45 (£0.37, $0.68 CAD) I have a good standard of comparison. At the same greengrocer only luck and a sale would get you the same bunch for twice the price - admittedly still a bargain in many countries - today.